Sitting in
an old
cobbled street
sipping an espresso
and feeling
a black eye,
as black as ink,
as dark as soot,
watching me,
and moving its
ebon stare
to take in each
deliberate movement
of my body,
each reflective sip
of bitter darkness.
Then the subtle
shifting slide
of eye
with every
look up,
with each attempt,
to capture
its dark deep
presence
and its unrelenting
ancient gaze.
29/5/2016